ABLUTION

Hidden gaze
melting
into steam-frosted mirror.
With a finger I sketch
the face
that I will wear today.
Tomorrow I'll begin again
with a clean slate.

UPON FURTHER REVIEW

The Ghost of Xmas Past
grips his impressive water cannon
and directs a great stream of piss
across time
into the 21st century
he still knows where
to find you
and his aim is true

the past is always present
in the present
your decadence a thread
running through your life

walled cities
with bearded men in robes
shimmer in the desert sun
you wake as from a dream
to find it was a dream
(or is a dream?)

all about 
the world is crumbling

oh
that's just you

but your mind
your mind
sharp as ever
maybe better 
and that's all you can afford
to give a shit about now

little things you forget
until it gets dangerously close
to the deadline
(forgot or subconsciously ignored?)
the little way you have
of creating drama
in a life now essentially
devoid of same

still
so many choices
your mind is racing 

you've acknowledged that
your only real objective
was to be happy
though it makes you feel guilty
to say it

and the only reason you're crying 
is because the world is crying

in reality you exist above it all
as ageless soul
pure essence
omnipotent
detached
as The Creator is detached
from his creation

now 
there are certain games
that once seemed crucial
to that rose-colored vision of happiness
you've suspended due to
the threat of storms

and anyway 
the guy only gets
the girl
in Hollywood






https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/t.co/uVr1Mpx

BALTIMORE BURNING

1.  

NOTE: "Baltimore Burning" is an encore presentation taken from my book of poems and short stories: Last Tango In Timbuktu. In light of recent events in America over the past few days, it seems an appropriate time to bring it back.

Unfortunately
meaningful social change
has always been accompanied
by great upheaval
and unrest

because

Unfortunately
polite entreaty
doesn't seem to effectively
 gain the attention of those
 entrenched in the
 arrogance of power

and

Unfortunately
from Bunker Hill
to Selma
to Kent State
to Watts
to Ferguson
to Baltimore
the pattern has always been the same

and

Unfortunately
when voices
(the voice of the people)
fall upon deaf ears
the decibel level must be increased
to a level that may cause sharp pain
in the eardrum
to a level that will make them turn
grimace
and glare at you
like an angry parent
and say at long last

ALRIGHT THEN...
WHAT THE FUCK IS IT YOU WANT?

ALL IS NOT LOST (IT'S JUST YOU)

What do you do when
you're not a real person
or an actor--
a kind of Mister In-Between
like Burl Ives
whom we never could
determine if he was a
bad fat actor
or a fat bad actor
but we love him
just the same
when snowflakes fly

Everyone should have his time
to rut upon the stage
like two cats
outside your window
keeping you awake at night
or the energetic cast of Oh Calcutta.

There's the real person
(which I told you I'm not) 
and the image one projects
but to act you've got to 
be someone else 
inside your head.

I was born for this role
born into this role
for as I see it now
there was no one else
sickly demented enough
to do it justice.

And it smells medicinal
this bitter pill
you're asking me to swallow
when there's no evidence
it will heal the world 
or even this pesky toenail fungus.

And now I'm beginning to realize
just what you will exact from me  
O Great Spirit
before I ride off into that sunset.

I'll try to take it like a man.

Like puffs of smoke
we are here and gone.

But I've a vision 
that one day
Cherokee Nation 
will return
proud and strong
and so will I...

so will I

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

LAST GASP

A doe raises her head attentively
some of us stop what we're doing
she hears the sound
far better than we 

For most it just blends in
with the rest of the
noise pollution
but for those who do take note
it mimics a cry in the wind
beneath the brainless bemusement
of the Cornhole Championships 
one has been reduced to watching 
as one dutifully 
shelters in place

Some switch to Fox
or CNN to get the latest
from the All-Pandemic-
All-The-Time channels 

We are all in this together...
comes up over and over
on the screen 
but it's not the way 
they'd have you believe

more like nervous strangers 
trapped inside an elevator 

and the doe and her ilk
are coming out of hiding
to reclaim the 
deserted suburban streets
stolen from them

Hey children
what's that sound...

boot heels hit the ground
as we follow along
in lockstep
(at least as far as
 the end of the patio)

And that cry in the wind
some of us 
but far too few  
heard was nothing
less than the
last
labored 
gasp
of 
ideals
we once held
sacred and dear
dying

the Greeks called it eleutheria!

WAITING FOR THE DAWN

When Frank Sinatra comes on 

singing "New York New York"

I shut off the radio. They'd been

playing some pretty 

decent stuff up till then

but that's like an obscene joke now.

 Still thirteen hours 

to go before dawn

and there's no guarantee

I will sleep any of it away.

Reading poems by Bukowski

and Raymond Carver. 

I buy books off the internet

to read on my Kindle.  

I buy plenty of books that way.

(I know you never buy a damn

book, but all your libraries are closed!)

I'm looking for something there, 

but so often I find disappointment.

Like the time--

it was a long time ago now--

I was at this singles dance

and this woman I didn't know

looked at me like she could

see right through me and she says:

You're looking for something...

but you're not going to find it here.

What did she think I was looking for?

Happily Ever After?

I still don't know.

But there's twelve hours to go before dawn...

and I know 

I'm going 

to have to

fill it 

with something 

that passes 

for living.

MASQUERADE IN SEARCH OF A BALL

I finally gave in
and put on the mask
and went strolling
through the aisles

Me!
the one who always
colored outside the lines
only to find
I felt a strange sense
of belonging 
to be
just another
Chinese wannabe
(all you see
are my beady little eyes)

and when I walk by
people turn their heads
and exclaim
Who was that masked man?
(Tonto is roaming around
here someplace
shopping for a new
rainbow colored headband)

and I understand 
it's not so much
for my own protection
as it is for theirs

and I find it ironic 
as hell
and a big grin
splashes across my face
to think that society
only just now
has thought of a way
to protect itself
from me

A NOTE FROM LUCIFER HIMSELF

I'll drive down the street
and see peeps walking along
from the back
I can't see their faces
just their shape and
male or female
though that's not always
easy to discern

and the game I play
is if I could
would I trade places
with this person? 

I have to decide before
I pass them by
no fair looking
at their faces 
split-second decision
(leap of faith based
upon incomplete information--
so familiar to me)

and I surprise myself at
how many times I say no
I'm not switching
even though I often see
it's someone younger
likely in better health
and better shape 
prolly with everything
going for them
and I surprise myself
at how often
I would still choose to be me

guess it's the old devil
that you know
is better than the one
you don't know

and I'm nothing
if not an old devil
with a lot
of really hot
memories

SCORCHED

3 a.m. 
and the road out here
is quiet as the moon

normally some solitary soul 
would be puttering by even
at this hour but
it's Easter morn and
everyone's sleeping on
their modified plans

no mass (no mas)
and you've got no one
to model your bonnet for
but you've got that chocolate
bunny you will mash into
your face at the appropriate moment
fingers all black and sticky
with the mortal sin of it but
on the third day you will rise
and begin your diet

no rest for me
up working again
on the new book
still trying to learn how
after all this time
to fit into this skin
less awkwardly
to be a "person"
inhabiting a planet
and to tone down the 
frightful jitters of that

not my nature to feel at ease
inside this meat suit
(something I've seldom 
talked about)  

having decided
that burning the candle
at both ends  
is the only thing
that will distract me
from the terrible Mork-ness of it

I'm not from around here

and I've given up fighting
the insomnia
just incorporated
the extra hours into my 
routineless routine

still trying to skate by
beneath this scorched
and blackened sky 

APOCALYPSE THEN

  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/ 

NOTE: Today's offering is an encore presentation first published in 2012. I've updated it to reflect the current year, but otherwise it is as originally published--perhaps more relevant to today's times than it was back then.

the day was December twenty-first,
and the year was two thousand and twenty.
and all of the folks down at the auction house
were going about their daily bid-ness
when there came a thundering boom
and a boomerous thunder
and the skies opened up
and a chorus of angels sang out
and all began to wonder
as the cry rang into the night:
why, them damn Mayans were right!


cuz it's closin' time
here at the world
last call for alcohol
at the weary old world


the preachers were atop their street corner 
soap boxes
railing fire and brimstone
'cept for that crazy one
who kept predicting the end
on one date and then another
was doing an Irish jig on a table top
cackling: I told ya--suckhas! 


Let the animals loose!
a man began to shout--
let 'em run for higher ground
and we'll be right on their tails.
(but people move like snails.)


and I saw Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes
wailin' the ol' Gut Bucket Blues
as she took another swig of booze
knowing she had nothing to lose
as she said, "C'mon boys--line up over here and take a number!"


and people were making love
in the street--
yeah, they were squirmin' like a toad 
to the boombox strains of
Why Don't We Do It In The Road.


cuz it's  closin' time
here at the world
almost closin' time 
at the weary ol' world.


so strained under the weight
of  inflated egos
and institutionalized hate.


and the churches opened their doors to all,
and didn't stop to check
if you were straight or gay--
to the sudden epiphany
that all of us can pray.


And mom and pop
said to the kids
go ahead and open
your presents--
it's now or never
forever and ever.


and  Santa at the mall
bolted upright
with a "git this BRAT offa me"
as he headed for the bar
and ran into another car.


and Dick Cheney,
scrambling for a place to hunker,
remembered he still had the key
to that underground bunker.


and people were jumping
from the top of Jeff Bridges
as confusion rained
on The Supremes.


and old Betty Conklin
recalled how she used
all that aerosol spray
and she never recycled
not even for a day...


and old Jeb Mcgurk
spat the juice from his chaw
as he cried: hallelujah--here I
come ma and paw!


and Paris Hilton
from her mansion of riches
took out her ipad and tweeted:
so long, bitches!


and as the animals headed for the hills
('cept the ones in Kansas--
they just ran in circles)
the roaches were throwing
a giant block party
with hijacked scones and coffee


cuz it's closin' time

here at the world
closin' time at the weary old world
no more time to be clever...


time to roll up the sidewalks
and stash them away

forever.